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    Feather Brain
    Feather Brain
    Feather Brain
    Ebook107 pages1 hour

    Feather Brain

    By Maureen Bush

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Lucas has dinosaurs on the brain, but he's a little short on friends. When he gets a new book on how to make model dinosaurs, he's inspired to make one immediately. He's not so inspired by his new dinosaur-making kit: all the box contains is a test tube of clear liquid and a few instructions. But when he mixes the liquid into his papier-maché goop, he gets much more than he bargained for, including the most unlikely friend.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOrca Book Publishers
    Release dateMar 7, 2008
    ISBN9781554696147
    Feather Brain
    Author

    Maureen Bush

    Maureen Bush is the author of five books for children. Before becoming a writer, she pursued other passions: she has a bachelor's degree in history, a master's degree in environmental design, a certificate in mediation and negotiation, and a postgraduate certificate of creative writing. She has worked as a public involvement consultant and trained as a mediator. Born in Edmonton, Maureen now lives in Calgary with her husband and two daughters. Visit www.maureenbush.com for more information.

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      Book preview

      Feather Brain - Maureen Bush

      CHAPTER 1

      Make-a-Saurus

      Lucas, mail for you, Mom called up the stairs.

      One of my packages?

      Both!

      All right, I yelled. I bolted down the stairs and skidded to a halt at the front door.

      Our postie stood on the doorstep, snow melting on her shoulders, holding out two damp packages. Both were addressed to me, Lucas Clarke, in Calgary, Alberta. One was in a big flat envelope; the other, perched on top, was about the size of a large milk carton.

      Something special? she asked.

      Birthday presents, I said, taking them from her. I mean, I ordered them with birthday money. They’re for making dinosaurs.

      She grinned. Show me when you’re done?

      Sure, I said.

      She walked down the sidewalk, leaving tracks in the wet snow. It was the second Wednesday in March, two weeks after my tenth birthday, and I’d been dying for these packages to come.

      I sat on the stairs and tugged open the envelope. It held a thin book: Make-a-Saurus: My Life with Raptors and Other Dinosaurs, by Brian Cooley and Mary Ann Wilson. Dinosaur models leapt off the cover—a wire model, a clay one and a finished dinosaur, complete with feathers and teeth and claws. It looked totally real.

      I started turning pages, getting more and more excited. The book showed how Brian Cooley makes dinosaur models. Then it explained how kids could make them too.

      Good book? Mom asked, sitting beside me on the bottom step.

      Look at this, Mom. It’s awesome. I flipped through the book, describing everything.

      She laughed. You’ve had it for five minutes and you’re already an expert? She ruffled my hair. We both have red hair—mine short and bright, hers long and dark. What’s in the box?

      I was so excited about the book I’d forgotten about the other package—the dinosaur-making kit. Together, they’d be incredible!

      I tore open the box and pulled out a handful of scrunched-up paper. Then another and another. Was there anything inside?

      Finally I found it—one small glass test tube filled with clear liquid, topped with a cork stopper. It was sealed in a ziplock bag, along with a small piece of paper. I held up the bag. This is it? This is supposed to be a dinosaur-making kit?!

      Mom bit her lip. I hate to say I told you so, but...

      I groaned. I know. You said, ‘You never know what you’ll get when you order off the Internet.’ But the ad looked so good! I groaned again, dropped the test tube into the box and stuffed all the paper back on top. What a waste of twenty bucks. At least the book was great.

      I headed up to my room and flopped onto my bed to read. I didn’t stop until I’d finished the book. It was amazing; I couldn’t wait to get started. I grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil and started listing all the things I’d need.

      The dinosaur on the cover was a sinornithosaurus (pronounced sigh-nor-nih-tho-sore-us, according to Brian Cooley). It’s one of the feathered dinosaurs from China. That was what I really wanted to make, but I decided to do something easier for a trial run. I glanced out the window. Fat lazy snowflakes drifted down. Maybe I’d make a fat lazy herbivore.

      I turned back to my list. I’d need wire for the frame. We had wire cutters and masking tape, and I had lots of scraps of colored foam sheets I could use for padding. We had newspaper for papier-mâché, and I had lots of paint.

      I decided to make a stegosaurus and cover it with poppy seeds for the skin texture. I’d need something to use for teeth—what would work for that? What about the spikes for the tail? And the plates that stick out of his back—what could I make those with? Maybe if I wandered through the craft store I’d get some ideas.

      I wrote out everything I needed. Then I put down my pad with a grin. I’d talk Mom or Dad into taking me to the mall tomorrow.

      I spotted the other package where I’d dropped it on my table. Slowly, I unpacked the test tube again. There wasn’t much in it; the test tube was no bigger around than my pinky. The liquid was as clear as water, although it moved more slowly when I shook it. What was I supposed to do with it? I unfolded the piece of paper tucked in the bag:

      Make A Dinosaur Come To Life

      Mix the solution with your papiermâché goop (glue or flour paste) and make a papier-mâché dinosaur. There is enough for three small projects or one large. You will be astounded at how lifelike your dinosaur will become for you. But be warned: what you create is yours for life unless it is stolen from you. www.howweirdcanyouget.com

      And that was it. Weird was right. What a waste of money. I stuffed the paper and the test tube back in the box and tossed the box under my table. Then I dashed downstairs with my list.

      Mom took me to the mall after school on Thursday. It was snowing again. Mom shook snow off herself and brushed snow off my hair as we walked into the mall. I’d already found something for dinosaur teeth when I was walking to school that morning. Gravel had been spread over the roads when they were icy. I kicked the snow away and picked out a dozen small rocks the same shape as my back teeth, but much smaller.

      I found a white comb at the dollar store for spikes on the tail, but nothing for the plates along the back of the stegosaurus.

      Mom had to buy some birthday cards, so she left me at the craft store with orders to meet her at the card shop when I was done. I wandered all through the store: yarn, embroidery floss, beads in tubes not much bigger than my dinosaur-kit test tube, pipe cleaners. I found wire, but nothing for back plates. I kept wandering. I could cut colored foam sheets into the shape I needed, but they’d be soft. Some scientists think the plates on stegosauruses were soft, for heating and cooling instead of for defense, but that didn’t sound very exciting.

      What would be hard enough? Cardboard, wood. What about the wooden cutout pieces? I rummaged through the bags: teddy bears, flowers, leaves, hearts. Come on! Why not just plain triangles? Then I took another look at the hearts. If I set them in upside down, there’d be just a point showing. That would work!

      Fishing in my jacket pocket for the money Mom had given me, I carried the wire and the bag of wooden hearts to the front desk. I counted out five dollars and looked around while the clerk rang it up. A kid with shaggy blond hair was leaning against a pillar outside the store. I held my breath. Let it not be Kyle, I prayed, let it be anyone but Kyle! He turned; I groaned. It was Kyle.

      He was the meanest boy in my class, maybe even in all of grade four, and he especially hated me. He’d hated me ever since I first came to the school last September. Red curls? he’d said, looking me over. Hey, Lucas has girly curls. Which is why I keep my hair short, too short to curl. But Kyle always finds

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